


color me yours

by belowaveragehero



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, and now im being fueled by spite, i love bawson more than i hate fox, i took a day to grieve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-27 20:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10816494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belowaveragehero/pseuds/belowaveragehero
Summary: When Mike starts noticing Ginny’s clothes, he knows he’s in trouble.Loosely connected one shots of Mike being head over heels for Ginny





	1. Lady in Red

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about what color Kylie looks best in (bc she’s just too damn pretty not to consider these things) when Blue Ain't Your Color came on the radio (shoutout to JoyBooth) and here we are. 
> 
> The chapters are organized a little more ROY G BIV than chronological.

Ginny never really wears color at Petco. Aside from Padres blue, of course. Most of her workout gear (which is 90% of her wardrobe, as far as anyone can tell) is black or gray. Even her post game casual wear doesn’t stray too far past navy. So when she strolls into Petco wearing a red quarter zip and sneakers to match, people take notice. 

It’s an off day for the team, but a few guys are milling around. They’ve taken to working out together, even on days they don’t have practice. They’d never admit it, especially not Tommy, who was the most reluctant to welcome Ginny to the team, but they’re in awe of her dedication. Their workouts have grown more frequent and more intense, and it looks like they're wrapping up a particularly gnarly session when Ginny strolls in looking like a cherry popsicle.

At least that’s what Voorhies calls from the treadmill he’s finishing his cool down on.

She shrugs it off when the guys asks if she forgot to do laundry. 

“Seriously Ginny,” Blip asks between long pulls from his water bottles, “what’s with all the red?”

“If you must know, I’ve partnered with the American Heart Association.”

The guys all mutter about it being “a worthy cause” and “a nice thing” and Ginny pays them little attention as she sticks her ear buds in and blasts her workout playlist. 

The gym empties out as she begins her warm up stretches, and she’s so engrossed in Katy Perry’s _Firework_ that she doesn’t notice Mike come in. 

He had heard she was wearing “an actual color,” an exact quote from Stubbs in the group chat, but he’s not prepared for her to pull off the quarter zip to reveal a strappy sports bra in the same shade of AHA red. 

Usually Ginny’s sports bras are all business, built for function and not fashion. Mike shakes off the thought that he knows what Ginny usually works out in. She’s his teammate. They workout together all the time. He knows what kind of socks Margolis likes, so it stands to reason that he could also know what kind of bras Ginny usually wears. 

She finishes tying her pullover around her waist and turns around. For a second, Mike worries that she’s caught him ogling, but she smiles as she frees one of her ears from her headphones.

“You’re just in time for yoga, Old Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to have more of this up soon, and I have quite a few other WIPs going... And I swear I'm going to get around to finishing Cabin in the woods! I'm super pissed at Fox and the semester is ending so I'm going to be throwing myself into writing. As per usual, I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	2. Orange You Glad

It’s unlike Ginny to do something just for attention. But Mike can’t imagine any other reason she’d have chosen to wear the orange sundress she has on. The straps are so thin that at a distance they seem not to exist, and her exposed shoulders seem to glitter in the sun. 

Her hair is piled on top of her head in some wispy ballerina bun, and there is so much of Ginny’s skin on display that Mike can’t stop staring. It’s not that the dress is _sexy_. In reality, it leaves plenty to the imagination. The problem is that Mike has such a damn active imagination.

He can’t remember that last time he’s seen this much of her legs, and Mike feels like a creepy old man for even being interested in her _knees_. 

He’s sitting on the opposite side of the pool at Oscar’s house pretending to listen to some upper crust Padres investor tell some story about his boat or his plane or helicopter or… something. 

All Mike can focus on is Ginny clutching Blip’s arm while she’s laughing at something Evelyn's just said. 

There’s a gust of wind and the skirt of her dress flutters, teasing her thighs in a way that makes Mike’s jaw clench.

The bag of money sitting next to him finally stops to breathe, and Mike stands. 

“Great talking to you, bud.”

He claps the man on the shoulder walks away before he can get reeled back in.

Mike was about due for a refill, and if he’s just happened to notice that Ginny could use another beer, well that was certainly a good enough excuse to get close enough to figure out if the citrusy scent that had lingered when they’d hugged hello was coming from her hair or her skin. 

When she uses her shoulder to bump his as a thanks for the beer, he's certain that it's her hair that smells like lemons, because the rest of her smelled just as she’d appeared to him from across the pool; like sunshine and sugar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment are appreciated, et cetera


	3. Mello Yello

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no self control or sleep schedule so enjoy another rainbow themed installment

The team had played a grueling game and just barely scraped by with a 4-3 victory over the Dodgers. 

All of the guys were tired, but the afternoon away game was close enough to home that there was no need to stay overnight. The bus hummed softly with conversation, the guys all too tired to make their usual ruckus. 

Mike was engrossed in his tablet, already going over the hitters for their next game. 

It wasn't until Mike realized that the snap of his gum was the only noise on the bus that he noticed the team had fallen silent. 

He looked to his right, but everyone else on the bus seemed to be looking straight ahead. Curious, Mike followed suit. 

Standing at the front of the bus, duffel over one shoulder, was Baker. 

In a duckie onesie. 

Hood on and all.

She raised one brow, daring anyone to comment. 

Not that he would ever say it aloud (or even think it too loudly), but Mike was pretty sure Ginny was on her period. She'd hold them all hostage with the feminista rant of the century if they suggested it, but she could be a little testy during that time of the month. Not irrational, per se, but short tempered for sure. 

The rest of the team must have been on the same page, because no one said a word to or about her. 

When the chatter resumed, Ginny plopped down in the seat next to Mike.

Quietly, because he didn't want to encourage bravery in anyone within earshot, Mike let out a _quack_. 

He braced for the slap he was sure was heading his way, but instead, Ginny laughed.

“Sometimes, a girl just needs to be comfortable.”

Mike grinned at her and shifted his eyes to his feet. He was lifting his sweats to reveal fuzzy pink socks.

“Birds of a feather,” he quipped.

In spite of the groan Ginny let out, her smile was as bright as ever.


	4. Go Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is by no means "long," but it's certainly longer than the previous chapters. Fun fact, this is actually the first thing I wrote in this series. (It occurs to me that that's not actually a very "fun" fact)

She had obviously not been expecting company. 

When Ginny opens the door of her suite at the Omni, banana halfway to her mouth, Mike could almost kick himself.

When she furrows her brow and grumbles, “You’re not my Chinese,” Mike does his best not to let the fact that he’s second guessing his decision to show up uninvited seem obvious. 

“You always have a snack while you wait for dinner to show up?”

She smirks, more friendly than hostile, and his nerves settle.

“More often than not,” she returns.

She continues to hold the door open but steps out of the doorway. It’s the universal signal for _come on in_ and so he walks past her. 

Mike sets down the six pack of #9 on the table in the entryway of Ginny’s suite. It’s not until she hops up onto the table next to the six pack that Mike notices the mile long expanse of Ginny’s exposed legs. 

The dark green soffe shorts she’s wearing are folded twice at the band (which he can see because her white tank stops right after bellybutton), and they’re probably a size too small. They look super soft, as if they’ve been washed and worn a million times over. Something in Mike urges him to reach out and touch them, to see if they as soft as they look.

His eyes are glued to the little v-shape at the side seam. His keys are still in his left hand, but his right hand opens and closes as he works to remind himself of all the reasons Ginny is off limits. 

_Namely_ , he chides himself, _the fact that a girl like her would want nothing to do with a guy like you_. 

If she notices him gawking, she doesn’t let it show. Instead, she finishes her banana and grabs for Mike’s keys where she knows there’s a bottle opener on a key chain. 

They speak at the same time. She’s reading her bottle cap -- _Is jumbo larger than huge?_ \-- and he blurts out _What’s with the turtle?_

Ginny grins, and it’s so dazzling that for a moment Mike doesn’t know what she’s talking about when she says, “It’s a tortoise.”

“My high school mascot,” she offers to his raised brow. 

The knock at the door gives Mike the chance he needs to compose himself. 

When Ginny returns, a very full bag of takeout in her arms, Mike feels fully capable of looking at her face and **only** her face. It’s not exactly a chore. 

He falters only once, while they’re a little too close in the kitchenette and she’s reaching for plates at the top of a cabinet, her cropped tank reaching with her. She’s too busy grabbing the plates to notice his eyes scan over her exposed abdomen and trail down her legs. By the time she’s turned her attention back to him, Mike has busied himself with his beer.

“You sure you weren’t expecting company, Baker? That’s an awful lot of food.”

“If you want me to share, you’ll stop talking now. Because I _will_ make you watch me eat all of this.”

He laughs, and it’s that easy. Baker’s his friend. And a girl. But she’s not his girlfriend. And whatever else she is, she’s his teammate first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always glad to hear your thoughts!


	5. True Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you may have noticed the chapter count at 9 although ROY G BIV might imply only 7 chapters... 
> 
> What ever could that mean?

Mike’s never made much of a habit of reading fashion magazines. Even when the only bathroom reading material had been Rachel’s Cosmo or Vogue or Marie Claire, the covers were pretty alienating for him. He couldn’t care less about “10 Tips for Better Sex” (he’d never needed pointers in that department) or what 90s trend was making a resurgence next. 

Despite his lack of interest, Mike had bought not one, not two, but _nineteen_ copies of this month’s Teen Vogue. Teen Vogue, of all things!

When he’d made his grocery run earlier, he had only been thinking about the chili he was planning to make for dinner. And then, staring at him from the checkout line’s magazine rack had been none other than Ginny Baker. Without thinking, he had scooped up every copy on the rack.

Now he was standing in his living room, beer in his hand, staring down at the tower of magazines on his coffee table. 

And the coffee table stared back. The cover was a close up shot of Ginny’s face, her hair piled high on her head, her bare shoulders just visible at the bottom corners of the magazine. Her article was titled “Making it Major,” and all the words around her promised to tell all on the latest trends - apparently monochrome was very in. 

The cover photo featured Ginny in striking blue eye makeup that only made her brown eyes seem to gleam on the page like they did in real life. She was decked out in blue beaded jewelry that was very much not her style, and Mike just stared at her face until it just became a blur. Although the fact that the beer in his hand was now empty and his fourth may have had something to do with the blurriness. 

He headed to the kitchen to stir his chili. And, okay, to grab another beer. When he finally decided to open up to Ginny’s spread, he frowned. She didn’t look much like herself, modeling teen trends she would never wear. There was a week’s worth of “outfit inspo” across two pages. Each day dedicated to a color. Mike grimaced and sipped his beer. He’d bet anything Ginny had hated this photoshoot. She didn’t want to be some cookie cutter role model whose clothing choices mattered. She just wanted to be Ginny Baker. 

And that was exactly who he saw when he turned the page. Wearing navy leggings and a navy bodysuit, a navy flannel (that looked suspiciously like one he had misplaced) tied around her waist. Her makeup was minimal, and her hair was in it's signature ponytail underneath a Padres cap. Ginny's Nike's were - of course - navy, but done up with yellow laces, a nod to their alt uniform. 

_Of course she would choose Padres colors when she got to dress herself._

He found himself reading the page, which had little bubbles with Ginny’s explanations of the outfit she had put together. He read the blurbs in her voice, imagining her practiced friendliness with the interviewer. 

_I live in leggings. Athletic spandex leggings, casual cotton leggings, full length, cropped… it’s a problem!_

_I’m not really a fashion girl, but I’ve hopped on the bodysuit bandwagon. Something about the snaps just feels safe, ya know?_

_Don’t tell on me, but I totally stole this flannel from a teammate! (It’s so comfy, sometimes I sleep in it.)_

Mike choked on the swig of beer he had taken. 

The article on the next pages was the same Amelia approved bubblegum drivel Ginny pretty much gave every interviewer, not that it mattered. It could have been entirely in Mandarin for all Mike actually managed to retain. 

She _took_ his flannel. She _kept_ his flannel. She **wore** his flannel. Sometimes to **bed**. 

It was all he could think about, even as his buzz faded and well after he set his smoke alarm off when he forgot about his chili.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, two things...
> 
> 1) I'm totally stumped on violet. It's killing me. I would love suggestions if you have any.
> 
> and 2) I may or may not (may) have written a _slightly_ smutty chapter, which is a little out of my wheelhouse. Is that something you guys want to read? 
> 
> I'd love to hear from you!


	6. Indigo-ing Under

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to the super short installments after the last two not-long-but-long-for-me chapters.

“Nobody calls them ‘blue jeans’ anymore, Old Man.”

“What do you mean, no one calls them ‘blue jeans,’” Mike’s face matched his incredulous voice. “That’s what they are!”

Ginny had caught Mike staring (and not for the first time) when she made her way back to the team table. She was slightly out of breath and flushed from dancing, and Mike couldn’t help himself. When she called him on it, he said the first stupid thing that had popped into his mind.

_“I don’t think I’ve even seen you in blue jeans.”_

“They’re just _jeans_ , Mike.”

He rolled his eyes, more to keep them from wandering down the second skin of Ginny’s dark wash denim clad legs than out of annoyance. 

“If you want to get really particular,” she persisted, “I’m pretty sure these are technically indigo. I don’t know why anyone ever called them blue jeans.”

“Whatever you say, Rook.”

Ginny smirked at his easy acquiescence. He was thankful when she offered to grab another round for the table instead of badgering him about his lame cover up. Both because he had no more material and because he got to watch her walk away. 

It took everything in him not to follow her to the bar. But then some random approached her side as she chatted with the bartender and he was out of his seat without a second thought. 

“Thought you might need a hand carrying all those drinks.”

It was a totally believable excuse, but Ginny narrowed her eyes in a way that Mike was sure meant she didn’t buy it.

It didn’t matter though, because his presence had done exactly what he’d wanted and scared off the deluded stranger who had been standing just a little too close. He wasn’t as close, though, as Mike found himself. 

He was close enough to feel the heat of Baker’s body, despite the fact that the whole bar was hot. Close enough to let their arms graze. Someone stepped up on Ginny’s left to talk to the bartender, and when she moved over to make room, her hip rested against Mike’s. He was hyper aware of the contact, and when she didn’t move away, his brain went a mile a minute trying to decide what the next move was.

The bartender was faster than he was though, finishing loading a tray up with the drinks Ginny had ordered. Mike grabbed the tray, and jerked his head toward the table.

“After you.”

If they had to break contact, at least he could admire those jeans one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Still taking suggestions for the violet chapter)
> 
> Once I shake the writers block the last rainbow chapter is giving me, I have two (or three...) bonus colors ready to go.


	7. Violets Are Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write! First I had no ideas, and then (thanks to you creative people) I had too many. Ultimately, I have Brianna Kennedy to thank for this chapter - I hope I did your idea justice! As for the many other wonderful suggestions I received... there's probably a standalone story coming that will incorporate more than a few of them!

When Blip asked Mike to serve as the best man in his vow renewal, he was happy to agree. The Sanders’ were a role model couple if one ever did exist. It gave him hope that they put the work in over the past season to build an even stronger relationship. It also was a great sign that the rift between Mike and Blip was finally healed. 

And the knowledge that Ginny would be Evelyn’s maid of honor certainly didn’t hurt things. Their relationship had bounced back after his almost trade (and their almost kiss). He had been there for her in her recovery as much as Amelia allowed. They were workout buddies and they had a standing movie night every week. They were seatmates on the team bus and they spoke on the phone more nights than they didn’t. They talked about everything… except the one thing they had agreed not to talk about. Then, when Ginny started dating, things had gotten strained again. 

Mike got it, he really did. When she missed their first movie night in months, only for her picture to show up in the tabloids the next morning, he wasn’t upset. And when his nightly calls started going to voicemail, he didn’t take it personally. He was happy for Ginny. She deserved to be happy and to have fun. So he didn’t care that she had been photographed leaving clubs and movie theaters and restaurants with a couple of mildly famous singers and actors (and two different Jonas brothers). But when she started to be photographed with only one person, well, maybe he felt some type of way about that. 

So Mike was happy for the opportunity to spend some time with his rookie. Even if it couldn’t be one on one, at least her boyfriend wouldn’t be around most of the time. Their maid of honor/best man duties involved shopping around for caterers, cake tasting, wine tasting, checking out bands in dive bars. Really, a lot of eating, and often without the couple of the hour. Minus the dive bars, a lot of the venues were really nice, romantic even. And if Evelyn cited a twin’s stomach ache one too many times not to make Mike suspicious, well, he would keep it to himself. 

It was comfortable, and it almost felt like it had before one of “Hollywood’s Rising Stars” (at least according to a couple of the articles Mike had hate read from his Google search) had come into the picture. With all the Sanders’ absences, it was a little like Mike and Ginny were planning a wedding. Mike didn’t remember wedding planning being this fun with Rachel. Rachel had list on top of list, and deadlines for _everything_. Even cake tasting had felt like a chore. With Ginny… with Ginny it was nonstop laughing. It was feeding each other cake and getting tipsy at 10 am. Even having to step in when he thought the head of one of the catering companies was going to knife Ginny for her criticism of the cilantro lime rice they wanted on the menu was immediately a funny story. 

It was easy to forget that this wasn’t his life, planning a wedding with the person he would absolutely call his best friend. Until Ginny was in the bathroom at yet another band’s performance, her phone lighting up on the bar top with a cozy picture of her all wrapped up in her actor boyfriend. That was all it took to remind him of his reality. That Ginny was his teammate, at least for the rest of the season. 

He’d tried not to think too much about what retiring meant. He hadn't told Ginny yet, because he wasn't ready for the conversation. About leaving the team, but also what would happen if they could talk about the one thing they didn’t talk about. Because Ginny had a boyfriend. An age appropriate boyfriend who had probably never even played little league. 

So he just kept his mind focused on the Sanders' vow renewal and that was that.

###### 

After the ceremony, Ginny sidled up next to Mike at the bar. She signaled to the bartender before turning to face Mike. 

“The DJ’s pretty good, huh?”

Mike grunted, not trusting his voice not to betray the quickening of his heart. He was sure Evelyn was trying to kill him, putting Ginny in this dress. 

The deep purple dress glowed against her skin. The strapless design had one of those built in collars that Mike wanted to tear away to expose Ginny’s throat, and a slit on either side so that both of Ginny’s strong legs took a turn peaking out. He was so busy trying not to look at the buttons up the back of the dress (which he could picture falling to the floor as he ripped it open -- who had the time for all those tiny things?) that he missed Ginny’s question.

“Did seeing all those bands ruin your hearing, Old Man? I asked if you knew when they settled on a DJ. I mean, we saw that one band, like 6 times for them!”

“Friendly Orgasm,” Mike supplied, his voice only a little breathy. 

“Yeah, Ev kept insisting you and I go see them!”

Mike cleared his throat, suddenly very aware what a set up this whole thing had been.

“Mike…” Ginny’s voice was cautious, and he turned to watch her fiddle with the stirrer in her gin and tonic. 

“Do you want to dance?” The words were out of Mike’s mouth before he even finished thinking them.

She grinned, “I would love to.”

The song that was playing was soft and slow, and they swayed gently together, more hugging than dancing.

“You look beautiful tonight, Gin,” if there was a gruffness to Mike’s whisper, he would blame it on the hour. The reception was by no means a rager, but it was well into the wee hours of the morning. 

“Not so bad yourself, Lawson.”

Over Ginny’s shoulder, Mike could spot Blip and Evelyn watching them, smiling softly.

“So, where’s that boyfriend of yours? Too busy filming to be your date?”

“Oh, probably. I’m not really keeping tabs since we broke up.”

At that, Mike puts enough distance between them to look at Ginny directly in the face.

“You broke up?”

“Yeah, a few weeks ago.”

Mike was flabbergasted, but Ginny was unaffected. 

“Now, you mind if we finish this dance? I like this song.”

He could only wordlessly comply as he processed this new information

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the chapter count has been upped for (probably) the final time to make room for an attempt at something a little scandalous... 
> 
> I hope it wasn't too awkward that I never name Ginny's beau, but I just couldn't think of anyone good enough for her!


	8. Blacker than the Kettle (Calling the Pot)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are officially done with the rainbow, but I couldn't leave it there!

Nervous. 

Mike’s nervous. 

He’s unfamiliar with the feeling. It’s been quite a while since he’s done something he wasn’t confident he’d excel in. But today, he’s nervous. Everything is on the line. 

He’d finally done everything he set out to do. He had captained a Series winning team. And then, he had announced his retirement from the only life he’d ever known.

There were a lot of things up in the air.

What would come next? Mike didn’t know.

But he’s pretty sure sitting alone in a two star bar when he’d just accomplished his childhood dream wasn’t supposed to be it. 

He was looking into the bottom of his second beer, considering leaving.

There were, quite literally, hundreds of thousands of people who would love to be in his general vicinity tonight. 

He had to turn his phone off because he thought the damn thing might explode from the sheer volume of messages and notifications coming through.  
He had his pick of any party in town. 

But before he could make a decision about whether to stay or go, the bell on the door rang.

Mike refused to look up, to even get his hopes up.  
And then he heard it.

“Hey, Lawson.”

And when he raised his eyes to see Ginny walking towards him, there was no where else he’d rather be. Especially considering she was wearing the dress. The one she’d been in all those months ago when he’d stolen her away from her date with the tech guy.

“Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” her voice was husky and warm as she stood next to his barstool. “I had to go change.”

“It was worth it.”

And he meant it. 

Both about the dress and the very long two seasons they had spent not talking about what had almost happened the last time they were at this bar. 

He had maybe been staring at her a titch too long because she started nervously chewing on her bottom lip.

“So… should I sit, or...”

His answering chuckle is deeper than he means it to be, almost ominous. He hears her breath catch as he stands. They’re close. Closer than they were the night of the trade deadline. 

He thinks about taking it slowly, about memorizing every second of what kissing Ginny Baker for the first time is like. But she has other plans, closing the minute gap between their bodies before he has a chance to dedicate the finer details of her face to memory. 

There will be time for that later.

Right now, Mike is acutely aware of every point of contact between them. Her lips on his, sure. But also her right hand on the nape of his neck and her left on his face. 

She's got his ear between her index and middle finger and her thumb is stroking his beard. In her heels, they’re almost the same height, and they’re pressed as closely together as humanly possible. Mike's not sure if it's his heart or hers that he can feel hammering a mile a minute, but it's probably both if she's feeling even a tenth of what he is. 

He and Ginny are in perfect sync, she steps back when he steps forward until she's pinned against the bar and he lets his hands roam from their gentlemanly perch on her hips. 

One wanders lower, and he feels her smile, knows she's thinking about that “perfect pear shaped ass” comment he'd made when they first met. The other hand splays across her neck, his thumb caressing her jaw. 

When they separate to take a breath, Ginny lowers her head and briefly sucks his thumb. Her tongue drags over the pad of his fingertip, and the motion is not unlike the way one might remove Cheeto dust from their fingers… except snack foods are the furthest thing from Mike's mind. 

He sucks in a breath and Ginny grin is devious. 

“Worth the wait?” she teases.

“Definitely.”

“Well,” she muses, “We can keep waiting, if you want. But I had my car stick around out front… Just in case.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe I wrote an entire chapter without using italics even _once_? 
> 
> Heads up... the next chapter is my first attempt at writing anything more than first base.


	9. Gray Area

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first (and possibly last) attempt at smut. Please be gentle (but honest!) in the comments.

The trip to Mike's place is both the shortest and longest car ride of their lives. 

In the car, they didn't dare touch any more than their pinky fingers on the seat between them. The driver may have had an NDA, but Ginny had learned the hard way that you can never be too careful. (Thank you,Trevor Davis.) 

After finally kissing in Boardner's, the 20 minute car ride felt infinite. But once they made it inside Mike's door, it was like no time had passed at all. 

He has her pinned against the door the second it’s locked. They kiss more slowly now, the urgency of _first_ out of the way. Mike gets to take his time the way he’d wanted earlier. He kisses her lips, her neck, her collarbone. He brushes his hands over all of her exposed skin. He kisses her once full on, then just her bottom lip, then just the top, then just the right corner, then the left. 

She laughs at that, in a giddy way that sounds like champagne tastes.

“What, Rook? I’m taking the scenic route.”

She laughs again, unlocking her hands from behind his neck to hold his face.

“There’s time for that later.”

She kisses him like she had at the bar, fierce and deep. Like his phone might ring and take it all away.

Mike has never felt less smooth in his life. He can’t seem to figure out whether he needs all of her all at once or a little at a time. 

The moment they’re vertical, he understands her urgency. 

She’s unbuttoning his shirt as soon as he lays her on the couch and suddenly he can’t be undressed quickly enough. 

While he undoes his belt she shimmies out of her dress and he freezes with his pants around his knees to be in awe of Ginny Baker on his couch in only black lace panties and heels.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he breathes.

“That’s the plan,” she agrees.

Now it’s his turn to laugh, hearty and genuine. 

She’s got a smile on her lips as she reaches for the waistband of his underwear, and when his dick springs free, she moans.   
Actually moans, and Mike’s heart skips a beat. 

“Mike,” she says his name on an exhale, so soft he’s not sure she’s said it all all.

She seems hypnotized, reaching for him and _holy fucking shit_ her pitching hand is on his dick and that’s the last coherent thought Mike has as Ginny strokes him, her eyes darting from his dick to his eyes and then back to his dick.

“Can I…”

But she doesn’t wait for an answer as she drops from the couch to her knees, and Mike flashes back to her taking his thumb into her mouth at the bar only this is a million times better. 

Mike loses himself in bliss, Ginny’s name falling from his lips like a prayer. 

As soon as he says her name, Mike realizes that he finally ( _finally_ ) has Ginny in front of him, and he’s hardly even touched her.

“Ginny,” his voice is rough with arousal and she hums her acknowledgement so that he feels it in his spine.  
“Ginny,” he tries again, and she looks up at him.

He shakes his head, motions for her to get up, but she goes back to her task with renewed effort.

She licks her way from the base to the head of his penis, and Mike grabs a handful of her curls, keeping her from taking him back in.

She _whines_ and he almost lets her go, but he’s a man on a mission. He pulls her up to him and kisses her, rough and messy. He’s toeing off his shoes and stepping out of his pants as he backs her into the glass wall. She hisses when the cold glass touches her heated skin. 

“As much as I appreciate that,” he growls, “I’ve been waiting a very long time for this.”

He slips his hand into her panties, and she’s soaking wet. 

“It’s all for you, Mike,” her voice is soft, but certain. “I’m all yours.”

She’s not just talking about sex and they both know it, and he can’t restrain himself from roughly pulling off her underwear and dropping to his knees. 

His first taste of her is everything he’d hoped it would be, and it’s not long before she’s chanting his name. 

After she cums, Mike kisses his way up her body, stopping to capture her lips in a slow, lazy kiss. Ginny’s barely caught her breath from her orgasm before she’s reaching for him again.

“You gonna fuck me or what, Lawson?” 

Hours later, after the best sex and then the deepest sleep of his life, Mike is only sure that he isn’t dreaming because he’s sitting in his bed, freezing his ass off, next to Ginny, who is sleeping inside the burrito she’s made of his comforter, despite the fact that she’s wearing the grey Padres pullover he’d bought to replace the one Amelia had kept. Odds are, he wouldn’t be getting this one back either. But he didn’t really mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so nervous about this one! Don't hold your punches if it's terrible!


	10. White Flag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I have planned for this series, although I do have a couple of other half formed ideas kicking around. Maybe I'll revisit it, but for now...

Mike’s been grinning like a fool all day. His cheeks are ruddy like he’s been drinking, but in truth, he’s just blushing like a school boy. 

If anyone had ever told him that it was possible for something to top winning a Series, he would have had them committed. But now he had had several moments that had far and away blown earning that ring right out of the water. The most recent courtesy of the gold band he was now wearing on his left ring finger. 

He couldn’t believe that Ginny had agreed to marry him, even if they had been dating for nearly three years when he finally popped the question. He was so convinced she would change her mind that he planned the entire wedding in three weeks. Can you blame the man? Retirement was slow, and planning a wedding was way more appealing than working on his memoir. Besides, his book wouldn’t be complete until he had his very own happy ever after. 

With the help of the two most badass people he knew (formally known as Evelyn Sanders and Amelia Slater), Mike had pulled together a beautiful ceremony. 

The only thing he had left up to Ginny was the dress. 

And what a dress it was.

Mike remembered his first wedding fondly. He remembered seeing Rach in her dress for the first time and smiling like someone had smeared his teeth with Vaseline, his right hand rising to cover his heart. 

It did not compare to seeing Ginny appear at the top of the aisle. Her dress was long sleeved, but the sleeves were entirely lace. Her hair was swept up and pinned in place with pins topped with what were probably genuine diamonds and pearls (Blip was not exaggerating in the least when he said Evelyn knew how to spend some serious cash). 

Mike recognized the gold teardrops in her ears as his first anniversary gift to her, and there was a long, dainty chain around her neck that was tucked into her dress. He knew that at the end of that chain, her series ring was resting against her breastbone. 

The wide neckline of her dress put Ginny’s slender shoulders on full display, and Mike knew she had purposefully chosen that cut to tease him. He had a thing for her shoulders… and her neck… and her collarbones. Which were all exposed and glowing, her skin radiant, even in the soft lighting of the wedding hall. 

The full skirt hid her feet, and if Mike’s brain could think anything other than, _How did I convince this angel that I’m good enough for her_ , he would have wondered if she was wearing sneakers. (She wasn’t, but not for lack of trying. Evelyn had bullied her into Louboutin’s that Mike would describe as “mesh” and “bedazzled,” which was apparently high fashion.) 

As it were, he couldn’t do much but try to hold back the tears that were manifesting as an outpouring of his overwhelming happiness. 

She took his breath away, and although Mike was of the opinion that Ginny could not ever possibly be any more beautiful than she was everyday, this was undoubtedly his favorite look to date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write more here, but I couldn’t settle on what their song would be! I have so many Bawson wedding ideas anyway, maybe it’ll be a stand alone one shot one of these days.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading this! (It's the first multi-chapter anything I've ever finished!)
> 
> Now that I'm done, I'm turning all my attention back to Cabin. Sorry to those of you who have been waiting a million years for that! Hopefully I'll have an update in about a week.


End file.
